APH: Bravery
by PunkTeaCup13
Summary: The Day the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy were days they would never forget.
1. Omaha Beach: Alfred

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

The harsh waters of the English Channel crashed against the side of invasion boat, spraying the soldiers inside. The boat rocked with the waves as it moved toward the beach, causing one man to vomit onto the floor much to the disgust of several others. The wind rushed through the cramped boat, sending more water splashing in. Two of the men held their heads down and touched the rosaries around their necks. In the middle of the pack sat their commander, a tall, broad set man with ash blond hair and square framed glasses, water droplets sprinkled over his chiseled face. His sky blue eyes scanned the horizon for their landing spot on the beach. Today was the day, no turning back.

As the beach grew closer and closer, the sounds of gunfire rang out from other invasion boats that had landed on the beach. They were to land in Sector Omaha and push their way up the beach and gain a stronghold. The hulking blond tightened his grip on his gun as he leaned forward with apprehension. The shouts grew louder as the boat approached its landing zone.

"We're about to open the gate, sir! Prepare your troops for battle!" the boat's navigator shouted.

Alfred Jones sat up straight, eyes narrowed and shouted back, "Understood! Men, get ready!"

There was a general tensing of the soldiers in the boat as they prepared themselves. Alfred felt proud of his soldiers and their spirit as he surveyed their preparations. His smile, however, quickly changed to a grimace as a torrent of bullets began to fall around their boat as it came to a halt on the beaches of Normandy.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

The dark blue water lapped the sandy beach as Alfred looked out toward the English Channel. 66 years ago he was sitting in an invasion boat about to take part in one of the most decisive battles of World War II, yet it seemed like it was only yesterday. Alfred sighed and walked back up the beach to the grassy area where his party was waiting for him. He remembered his exact steps up the beach, dodging bullets, ducking behind barricades, leaping over the dead and wounded as he returned German fire. He had seen many great men die that day, and many more days before that.

As Alfred stepped onto the brick path he felt the overwhelming desire to visit one of the graves. The reunion party would be doing the exact same thing in a bit, but Alfred wanted to visit a special grave first. He followed the path down to the American Cemetery, a large area filled with white crosses. He passed grave after grave until he came upon the one he was searching for: the grave of Private Jeremy P. Russell. Alfred reached into the pocket of his favorite bomber jacket, bent down and draped something over cross: Jeremy's dog tags, his rosary and a purple heart, signifying the United States' recognition of his brave act in war.

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

Bullets ripped into the pack of soldiers, killing several instantly. Alfred ducked one bullet as it whizzed passed his head, barely scraping his cheek. The gates to the boat opened and the soldiers jumped into the water, struggling against the current as they made their way to the beach. Alfred followed his men, ignoring the sting as salt water got into the cut on his face. The water turned red with the blood of downed men, shot down before they reached the beach. Alfred felt his feet hit something solid as he finally reached the beach. He didn't have time to check what it was since German bullets were landing all around him. He scrambled behind a barricade and pulled the plastic bag off his gun. It was now or never.

Alfred took a deep breath and ran from his cover to a hill of sand 20 yards away. He passed one of the privates in his troop and winced in pain; the young man was bleeding heavily from his leg. Alfred scrambled over to him, grabbed his arm and dragged the private to the sand hill shouting for a medic all the way there. He reached the hill and collapsed on the sand as two medics rushed forward. He looked down at the private, whose breath was coming in short, ragged bursts.

"What's your name Private?"

"S-Simmons, sir," the Private gasped, "J-James S-Simmons."

"Hold on James, the medics are coming for you. Just hold on," Alfred shouted to the Private above the roar of gunfire before making a break for an embankment where troops were waiting for a commander.

Alfred pelted across the beach and up to the embankment, dodging fire as he went. All bullets seemed trained on him; he was the representation for the United States after all, losing him would mean disaster for his men. As Alfred approached the embankment a mortar shell exploded no more than ten feet from him, causing him to hit the ground hard. Alfred looked around before struggling back up to his feet and running forward, collapsing in between two American soldiers.

Alfred looked towards the German stronghold. Alfred glanced at the small mass of troops that had gathered. He noted that two had flame throwers and one had grenades. Unfortunately, they didn't have any snipers. Alfred rubbed his forehead underneath his helmet, thinking of a strategy. After a few seconds, he had one.

"Anyone play baseball?" Alfred shouted to his troops.

Several soldiers shouted yes in response, Alfred smiled.

"We're gonna play a game of catch, just like we do back home."

There was confusion among the soldiers; a game of catch? Here? Now? Alfred looked up at the stronghold one more time; it was within throwing range of a good arm. Alfred faced his troops again and explained his plan.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

So many things could have gone wrong that day; a lot of things did go wrong that day as a matter of fact. Landing crafts missed their targets, the German defense was stronger than first thought, very few channels had actually been opened which caused mass build-ups for landings, retreats were hard to accomplish as the exits were heavily defended. Omaha beach had the worst amount of casualties and fighting compared to Juno beach which Matthew was in charge of or Gold beach where Arthur held command. They hadn't seen what Alfred had seen, nor did Alfred want them to see what he had seen. It was still vivid, 66 years later.

Alfred looked down at the white cross again. Jeremy had been a fine young man. Alfred remembered his dark brown hair sticking out of his helmet, caked in wet sand. Jeremy's ocean teal eyes staring up at the German stronghold, waiting for the command to throw a frag grenade into the open gun ports. Jeremy was the ideal American soldier, brave and ready to serve his country. Alfred hadn't realized that meant taking a bullet for his country too. Alfred's eyes stung as held back tears began to flow.

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

The soldiers stood poised and ready to throw their grenades. The gunfire wasn't on them but on the remaining landing crafts that struggled to reach the beach. Alfred stood up enough to avoid German fire and took aim in the stronghold.

"Ready. Aim. FIRE!" Alfred shouted as he pulled the pin and tossed the frag grenade into the building. About 20 other grenades flew over his head and into the stronghold. A massive fire erupted from the open gun ports, drowning out the screams of German soldiers.

Alfred ran forward, his men following him, up the hill to the stronghold only to be stopped by a gun nest resting on the next hill. A young soldier with dark brown hair ran in front of Alfred, took aim and shot one of the German soldiers. Before the second could retaliate, Alfred shot him down.

The group finally arrived at the German stronghold. Alfred could hear German's alive inside the building, shouting and trying to put out the fires. Alfred motioned for the two troops with flamethrowers to come forward and to stand by the exit. As German soldiers came running out, the two would start torching them. One German broke away from the massacre and ran toward the beach, only to be gunned down as he ran.

More German troops ran outside, their arms up in surrender. Alfred held up his arm in a command for his troops to stop. The soldiers were striped of their weapons and crowded in a corner of an abandoned bunker. Alfred locked the door of the bunker and began walking back to the stronghold to search for weapons; the dark haired private at his side the entire time.

"What's your name kid?"

"Russell, sir. Private Jeremy P. Russell."

"Where are you from Jeremy?"

"Leesburg, Virginia sir."

Alfred smiled and looked at the emptied gun nest, "That was some fine shooting Russell. Nice marksmanship."

"Thank you sir- LOOK OUT!"

Russell dove forward and pushed Alfred out of the way. Alfred hit the ground and heard a loud gunshot, followed by a second gunshot and the sound of someone collapsing. Alfred went cold as he looked up and saw a downed German officer and a collapsed Jeremy. Alfred ran up to the Private and lifted him by the shoulders. Blood was slowly creeping across the boy's chest, the light fading from his eyes.

"Russell? RUSSELL! Don't you dare die on me now! Don't you dare!"

Jeremy looked up at Alfred and smiled, "Sir, I'm sorry. But I couldn't let the damn Nazis get you. I'm glad to have served beside you."

"No, stay with me Jeremy! MEDIC! I NEED A MEDIC HERE STAT!"

"Sir, it's too late for me. Make sure you beat those d-damn Nazis for me sir."

And with that, Jeremy P. Russell passed on, leaving a broken and crying Alfred alone on the hill amidst a raging battle soon to be won.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

Alfred stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes. He needed to get going. He placed a hand on the grave and smiled as a blond man walked up behind him.

"There you are you silly bugger," Arthur Kirkland stated impatiently, "We've been waiting for you for half an hour, let's go you silly bastard. Have you been crying?"

Alfred had turned around and hugged at his British friend.

"No, just saying hello to an old friend of mine."


	2. Gold Beach: Arthur

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

The beaches were rapidly approaching, getting bigger and bigger in the blond Brit's emerald eyes. He absently brushed wet bangs to the side as the boat moved closer and closer to the drier sand. Along the hills of the beach were several armed beach houses that were filled with heavily Germans, still preoccupied with the aerial assault and paratroopers that had landed a few hours ago. According to the reports, the concern caused by the paratroopers had cost the Germans their ability to counterattack at Bayeux. They didn't stand a chance against the British attack.

Arthur Kirkland felt deep down that this day would be a victorious day for the Allies. The plan had been set and the boats had been launched. Arthur had no idea if Alfred's troops had landed on Omaha beach and Utah beach or if Matthew's troops had landed on Juno beach, but now wasn't the time to be focused on it, he had work to do.

"Ready yourselves lads," Arthur called to his troops, "We'll be landing soon."

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

After all these years, Arthur could still remember that day. How couldn't he, it had been an important day after all. Operation Overlord's success had meant liberation for much of Nazi controlled Europe. Arthur could remember the planning, the strategizing, and the deciding as if it had happened yesterday.

Arthur stood on a hill overlooking Gold beach, surveying the waves crashing against the shore. No signs of any battle were left on the beach; years of peace had made sure of that. Arthur shoved his hands in pockets as he replayed the battle for Gold beach in his mind.

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

The invasion boat slowed to a halt on the beach as the gate dropped. Arthur's soldiers surged forward onto the beach, dodging German fire. Arthur swore to himself; the German's weren't as distracted as initially thought. He grabbed his gun and ran forward onto the beach, raising his gun and firing at German artillery positions. He ducked behind a sand pile as the bullets raked passed his head. Arthur clenched his teeth and prayed to the Britannia Angel that he would live through this.

Arthur opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He peered out from behind the sand pile and fired at the German artillery position several yards in front of him. He hit a German soldier square in the chest and felt a pang of regret as the man collapsed. Arthur felt no joy in killing someone. It always left him feeling empty and heartless. Arthur shook his head to clear it; this was not the time to feel that way.

He ran out from behind the sand pile and made his way toward one of the beach houses, gun raised. He was about half way there when he stopped, a searing pain shooting up through his leg. He collapsed in the sand and cried out, his leg growing warm from the seeping blood.

"Medic! I need a medic!" Arthur shouted, forcing himself into a somewhat sitting position.

The battle raged on around Arthur as he tried to drag himself to cover. He made little progress across the sand and left a small blood trail as he went. He had barely dragged himself a few feet when another bullet whizzed by his head and into the sand where his hand had been seconds earlier. Swearing to himself, Arthur pressed on until he felt someone grab his arm. Arthur swung around to jab the person in the leg, but stopped; the man was a British solider.

"Sir Kirkland?" the man asked, staring at him, "You must be, no one else in the world has those eyebrows."

Arthur frowned, but he didn't mention the fact that his older brothers had thicker eyebrows than him. The soldier wasn't a medic, but just a regular soldier. His blue-grey eyes shone with concern as he stared down at Arthur.

"Yes, I am Sir Kirkland. I've been shot and I need a medic."

"Don't worry sir; I'll get you to safety."

The soldier hoisted Arthur to his feet and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. As the soldier dragged Arthur to a nearby sand dune, Arthur couldn't help but be reminded of Alfred and his 'Hero' quality. Arthur could see sandy blond hair sticking out of the bottom of the man's helmet that was slowly growing back after being shaved off.

"What's your name soldier?"

"Private Oliver Kinlan sir. I see a medic over there, one moment. MEDIC!"

A medic ran over to where Arthur and Oliver stood and helped carry Arthur out of the line of fire. They set Arthur down and the medic immediately set about tending to Arthur's wounds. Arthur looked up at Oliver with curious eyes.

"Why did you stop to help me?"

Oliver looked taken aback, but answered Arthur's question without hesitation, "Because, you're my country. And even if you weren't it is always honorable to help those in need. It's what a true gentleman does."

Oliver stood up and turned to leave. Arthur grabbed his pant leg, causing Oliver to turn.

"Thank you lad. It's much appreciated."

Oliver smiled and ran off to go back to the battle, leaving Arthur to have his leg fixed.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

There had been no permanent damage to his leg. It had healed just fine and he had returned to battle a few hours after being bandaged. The initial battle had very few casualties, somewhere around 400 men had died. Battle wise, not many had died. Individually, the numbers hurt Arthur deep down. Those were all of his children, not by blood but by nationality. It hurt him to say it, but it was the truth.

Arthur had spent much of the few hours out of commission worrying about Oliver, hoping that he was alive. Shortly before returning to battle, Oliver had shown up seemingly unscathed with a battle report for Arthur. Seeing the boy alive had brought great relief to Arthur and gave him renewed strength to fight.

No signs of the battle had been left on the beach. It personally made Arthur glad. He hated the battle, the killing, and the screams of downed men. The one ray of light had been Oliver's bravery, his chivalry. Arthur turned to leave and find Alfred, his thoughts heavy with one thought.

There are those who show honor on a battlefield, there are those who show bravery, and there are those who show friendship. It takes a real man to show all three at once. And no one had ever shown those three more than Oliver.


	3. Juno Beach: Matthew

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

The Invasion boat steadily navigated through the waters of the English Channel, trudging towards the shore where several other boats had landed. Inside, a small, blond Canadian man sat with his gun at the ready, to protect himself and his men from the Germans. His purple eyes squeezed shut behind round frames as he tried to push images of his brother Alfred from his mind; now wasn't the time to be focusing on the ash blond American whom others mistook Matthew for. The two had distinct differences, not that others cared to notice.

"Sir? We'll be landing in a few minutes," a Canadian troop shouted to Matthew.

Matthew jumped slightly; he wasn't used to people that talked to him, let alone see him. Matthew nodded in response, his signature hair strand bobbing as he did so. He turned back to face the oncoming beach and the horrors involved.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

It had shocked everyone when Matthew had volunteered to lead an attack on Juno Beach. How could quiet, shy Matthew possibly lead a battalion of men into a vicious, deadly battle? At first he had been mistaken for Alfred and had been told off for trying to be in two places at once by Arthur. Francis quickly corrected the mistake after he pointed out to Arthur that Alfred was standing right next to him. Arthur apologized profusely before granting Matthew's request.

Matthew smiled to himself as he thought about that meeting. No matter how much being called Alfred bothered him, he always found it amusing to view their reactions when they finally figured out their error. 66 years later and people were still making that mistake. Matthew shook his head and gazed out over Juno beach.

Juno beach hadn't been as bad as Matthew had thought it would be. There had been roughly 1100 losses and casualties that day, not nearly as bad as Omaha beach, but worse than Gold beach. The seawall had been bigger than the one at Omaha beach and the sea had been heavily laden with mines, which surprised Matthew greatly that his boat had made it through without incident. Getting through the artillery was another matter.

June 6, 1994

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

The Invasion boat jolted against the beach as it finally touched the sand. The invasion gate dropped and the soldiers surged forward, pushing Matthew along. They hit the beach and immediately ran full on into German fire. All around Matthew soldiers began to fall, much to his horror. Closing his eyes, Matthew charged forward shouting something of a whispered battle cry. The bullets fell around Matthew, never actually hitting him. That was the advantage of being Canada, he was easily missed.

Matthew raised his gun and fired, eyes closed, towards the enemy hoping slightly that he hit someone. He opened his eyes just a crack to view any damage he had caused. He guessed he had shot at least one German soldier and injured another from the empty gun nest he had fired at. Matthew shook his head and continued running forward, pausing continuously to fire at the defending Germans. Soon enough, the Germans got wise to the fact that Matthew was shooting at them and began to search for him amongst the Canadian soldiers. Matthew dodged behind an empty gun nest as a bullet ripped past his arm, barely missing him.

"You alright sir," a nearby soldier called out to him.

"I'm fine," Matthew tried to tell him, his voice barely heard over the roaring sounds of the battle.

The soldier gave him a confused look before he ran forward to attack the Germans. Matthew closed his eyes, took a deep breath and ran after the nameless soldier. He reached the base of a German occupied bunker and immediately found the soldier from a few seconds ago. The brown haired man was accompanied by what Matthew took to be a Major. The man saluted Matthew as he collapsed against the base of the building.

"Commander Jones, it is wonderful to see you alive. I take it the invasion of Omaha beach was successful, as was the invasion of Utah beach. You wouldn't happen to know where Matthew Williams is would you?"

Matthew raised a questioning eyebrow, "I'm not Alfred, I'm Matthew Williams."

The Major stared at him before slapping himself in the forehead, "Terribly sorry Sir, you look so much like your brother."

Matthew waved him off, "It's alright Major-?"

"Roy, Major Lucas Roy."

"Major Roy. What's our situation?"

"We've gained a beach-head and we are currently on our way to our immediate objectives."

"What about the Germans inside the bunker?"

"We're about to deal with them Sir."

Matthew looked up at the bunker and then at wounded soldiers that had begun to accumulate around the base. Matthew looked at the brown haired solider from earlier and turned back to the Major.

"Need a little help with that?"

The Major looked at him, surprised that the quiet nation had volunteered like that. The brown haired soldier stepped up and put a hand on Matthew's shoulder. Matthew looked at him and smiled.

"I want to help, it's my battle too."

The soldier returned the smile and looked Major Roy who nodded grimly. The three gathered up a small group of Canadian soldiers and quickly came up with a plan to take over the bunker. Matthew took the brown haired soldier, named Aiden Lee, and two soldiers up the side of the bunker, clearing out any German soldiers for the rest of the group. Matthew located the door to the bunker and called over the three others.

"Who has the grenade?" Matthew asked the group, looking at the door.

"I do sir," Aiden replied, handing it to Matthew.

Matthew thanked him, opened the door silently, pulled the pin on the grenade and rolled it inside the bunker. He quickly shut the door as the grenade went off, killing the vast majority of the Germans inside. Matthew stood aside as Aiden kicked open the door and ran inside with the other two Second Lieutenants. Matthew started to follow but stopped as he felt something cold and metal press into the back of his neck.

"You're ze leader, ja?" a husky German voice asked him.

Matthew didn't say anything in response. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping the German wouldn't shoot him.

"Stand, now! Hands on your head!" The German shouted at him, making Matthew jump slightly.

Matthew lurched to his feet and put his hands on his head. He figured if he reasoned with the German, he might live. The German shoved him towards the bunker and put the gun to his head.

"Call zem out, NOW!"

Matthew flinched and opened his mouth to comply when he suddenly felt the pressure of the barrel leave his neck. Matthew spun around to see the German soldier amidst a tug-of-war with Major Roy over the German's gun. Matthew grabbed his gun and rushed forward to help Major Roy. He raised his gun and took aim when he pushed out of the way by Aiden.

"Get back Sir!" Aiden shouted at Matthew, who ran forward to join the fray.

The German soldier dislodged Major Roy and grabbed at the gun. He raised it and fired at Major Roy, hitting him in the arm. Major Roy fell back and clutched his arm in pain, screaming a collection of colorful words in French. Aiden raised his own gun and fired at the German, missing him by inches. The German snarled and fired at Aiden, who leapt out of the way just in time. Matthew raised his own gun and fired at the German, succeeding in shooting the man in the knee. The German collapsed to the ground, grabbing his knee and dropping his gun.

"Aiden shoot him!" Matthew and Major Roy shouted at the same time.

Aiden raised his gun and fired. With a spray of blood, the German's heart stopped.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

Matthew sat down and watched the water lap at Juno beach as if nothing had happened all those years ago. Matthew was glad that things had initially returned to normal around the beach. The only real evidence of anything had occurred here were Juno Beach Centre and the Bény-sur-Mer Canadian War Cemetery. Francis had been kind enough to help the world remember the Canadian soldiers that had died that day and for that Matthew was grateful.

Matthew truly felt that he proved himself that day. He had proved to the other Allies that he could fight too, that he had the strength to help the world like they had. Canada was a nation to be reckoned with, not just an invisible, peace loving nation. And it was soldiers like Major Roy and Second Lieutenant Lee that made it all possible. Their bravery and sacrifices could never be forgotten.

Matthew squeezed the polar bear in his arms and smiled sadly.

"What's with the smile?" Kumajiro asked, confused over his owner's happiness.

"Just remembering what happened all those years ago Kujiro."

"Who are you again?"

Matthew sighed heavily and held the polar bear up to his face.

"I'm Canada."


	4. Sword Beach: Francis

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

How many times in history does one get the chance to redeem themselves? To right the wrongs brought unto them by others? With any hope, this one invasion could bring justice and redemption back to the French. Under the command of British forces, the Free French Forces slowly made their way toward Sword beach to help liberate their country. Among them sat a tall, blond French man, gun ready, blue eyes staring intently at the beach.

When the blond man had heard of the Allies plan to invade his home, Francis had signed up right away. He had stood defiantly in front of Arthur, Ivan and Alfred, presenting his case as to why he should be allowed to help. Finally, they had agreed to have Francis and a group of Free French Force soldiers be placed under British command and land at Sword beach. Francis had swallowed his pride enough to thank them and promise them that their kindness would not be forgotten. Now here he was, making his way slowly back to his home, prepared to save his country.

The Invasion craft landed on the beach without difficulty, the crafts door opening to the beach. Francis ran forward with the group, heading towards the mainland. The beach's resistance was weak, allowing the British and French forces to push through. Francis ran forward, gun raised, firing at any Germans that remained standing. Francis's bravery shocked him, any other day and he would have been running for it. But this was his home; it was his duty to defend it.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

Francis's home was littered with remnants of the past. There were soldier cemeteries, memorials, visitor centers, all so tourists and native French citizens alike could remember this day. For 66 years, those involved in the D-Day invasions visited the respected beaches that they were involved in before meeting the others and reminiscing. It was a tradition that one rarely missed. In the recent years Ludwig had started showing up as a way of reconciliation with the Allies. No one minded.

Francis watched as the waves crashed lightly against Sword beach, caressing the sand as someone would do with their lover. The waves hadn't been like that 66 years ago. No, those waves were far from romantic. The entire affair of Operation Overlord and the war had been nothing but pain and destruction with no love. The whole thing was sickening. Francis looked down, frowning as memory after memory crashed through his mind like the waves on the beach.

June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

Operation: Overlord

The fighting on the beach had been pushed inland hours ago. Francis was slightly shaken as he thought of the bodies he had passed on the beach, mainly Germans, which lay dead or dying. He had never experienced this level of death before, it was unnerving. Francis shook his head to clear it, trying to focus on the task at hand. The Germans resistance had dwindled and the troops were now rounding up Germans who had decided to surrender.

Francis walked among the wounded soldiers, spotting a few Free French soldiers among the wounded. He saluted to the ones that were still conscious before moving on. He didn't know a lot of these men, but it still filled him with pride and regret to see them fitting and dying for their home. Sighing, Francis tried to shut out the heartache from the dead French men that he had seen earlier and felt little pangs on his heartstrings as two wounded French soldiers passed away.

All at once, a mortar shell exploded a few feet from Francis, knocking him off his feet and throwing him backwards. Francis landed hard on his back and felt himself blackout. All around his unconscious form, British soldiers and Free French fighters scrambled to get into fighting positions against this new enemy. The 21st Panzer Division had arrived to be the German's counterattack.

Francis slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurred and his hearing shot. He could feel the explosion of mortars and the British counterattack. Francis tried to stand up, only to feel excruciating pain in his leg. That couldn't be good. He propped himself up onto his elbow to survey the battle.

British soldiers and Free French soldiers had been fast in their response to the 21st Panzer Division's attack. The anti-tank guns were wheeled out and prepared for counter fire. From the looks of it, the German tanks were spread out enough to destroy them easily. Francis felt the need to help and tried to get to his feet, wincing in pain.

A British soldier spotted him and ran over, concern in his light green eyes. He crouched next to Francis, gently touching his leg.

"Are you alright sir? Can you stand?"

Francis shook his head, wincing at the soldiers touch. The soldier grabbed his arm, hoisted Francis to his feet and placed Francis's arm around his shoulder. The soldier began to help Francis hobble away from the immediate fighting. Francis looked at him, not sure if he should feel thankful towards the soldier for helping him or annoyed that the man was British.

Swallowing his pride Francis asked in hesitant English, "Why are you helping me?"

The soldier looked at him before answering, "It was the right thing to do. The British and the French may get along like cats and dogs, but we as gentlemen know that when an Ally is down that we should help them no matter what. The Germans are our enemies today, not the French."

Francis nodded, "What's your name?"

"Joshua Young. You're Francis Bonnefoy right?"

Francis nodded once more, thanking Joshua once more before feeling himself pass out from pain.

June 6, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

Francis's leg had been fine. It had fractured in two places, but other than that he hadn't suffered any lasting damage. Joshua had dropped him off with the medics and ran off back to battle, eager to help fight against the Germans. Francis learned later that Joshua had died in battle just minutes after helping Francis. Francis felt regret about Joshua's death like no other.

Francis had never told Arthur that he had been saved by a British soldier. If Arthur knew, he would never let Francis live it down. Francis had been removed from battle and flown back to England where he could be treated properly. Arthur had, surprisingly, saluted him afterward for his effort in battle rather than bother him for getting injured. Francis suspected that Arthur couldn't really talk because he had been shot in the leg, but refused to mention it.

Francis took one last look at the beach and walked back to his car. This was his day to celebrate the retaking of his home, he didn't want to be late to his own party.


	5. Bravery: Epilouge

_**Author's Note: **_Sorry this took so long to post, I tried to think of a good ending to finish this up and I figured, this would be the best. So here it is, the short ending to my APH: Bravery series

* * *

June 6th, 2010

Normandy, France

66 Year Reunion

One by one, the nations gathered around, sharing invasion stories and reminiscing about the end of the long war. Being immortal, usually seven years flew by as if they were mere seconds. But to the immortals the war had seemed to last a lifetime. Veterans came and went, survivors lived on or died, but to those who lived the memories remained. The scars remained fresh and remorse stood strong in their hearts. A war had torn them all apart, but a war had brought them all together again.

Standing against a setting sun, an American linked arms with a Frenchmen, who linked arms with a British man, who linked arms with a German, who linked arms with a Canadian, who linked arms with an Australian, who linked arms with a Polish man, who linked arms with Norwegian as they watched the sun set on the beaches that decided the fate of the world.

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Short chapter is short

Yes, Australian soldiers, Norwegian soldiers and Polish soldiers helped out with D-Day look it up

Peace

PTC13


End file.
